... it's like literary candy ...

Chapter 14: This is NOT A Drill!

We were totally unprepared for the breach when it came.

*****

I was in the store at six a.m. the next morning despite my late bedtime. It had been two days since my last shift and I was craving the comfort of a daily routine and the companionship of my workmates. Ol’Ben could always be relied upon to recharge my emotional batteries. But I especially needed Loo, to be honest, and his grounded perspectives. With Loo I could be sure I wouldn’t be pulled off furtively into some corner for updates on skullduggery. He would want the shelves stocked, coffee and tea prepared, and Ol’Ben made comfortable. In Loo’s world, the end of a good day would be the satisfaction of a job well done.

Our partnership thus restored, we began ticking away adequately for the morning coffee and tea trade, reaching maximum velocity by noon. Although we had agreed not to discuss the witchy subjects in the open, I allowed myself one whispered comment to Ol’Ben about having to catch him up later on compelling developments.

In welcome contrast to the constant upheaval of the past couple of weeks, this day seemed destined to be routine. Nothing out of the ordinary, thank goodness. Then about mid afternoon we were surprised by a visit from Shin, Michael and Mánús, who announced a desire to visit Ol’Ben. Although he was slightly taken aback, Ol’Ben seemed pleased enough to see them, and led them upstairs to his newly refurbished apartment. I settled them in with mid afternoon coffees, while I remained below with a distinctly grumpy Loo and the ever stalwart Mánús.

“What’s she here for?” Loo muttered, “and who’s the guy with her?”

“That guy is my father.”

“Your Dad, huh?” Loo softened the edges of his tone, “I thought you were an orphan.”

“I never said that, although I met the man for the first time only two days ago.”

“And he’s friends with the old dear?”

“Sort of. They have mutual interests, let’s say.”

Mánús had been staring out the front window at a figure in dark trousers and jacket, slowly making his way up the street in the direction of the store. His interest became more apparent as the man drew closer and when another fellow in similar dress suddenly fell into step behind him, my puppy pal went ballistic. He switched from being a watchdog frozen in place, to a canine projectile, suddenly launching himself at me, grabbing my forearm and pulling me to the floor behind the counter. A startled Loo rushed to my aid and tried the pull the dog off me, but Mánús held him at bay with a fierce growl, a baring of teeth and a quiver of jaw.

“Dad!” I shouted, “Quick, something’s wrong with Mánús!”

Within seconds Father was in the doorway assessing the scene, “What happened?”

“I think it may have something to do with that man down the block there; maybe even the other guy behind him.”

He dropped and slid along the floor to a low corner of the front window, allowing himself a quick peek, which apparently was enough to activate a well rehearsed drill. “Good job Mánús! Cait, you remember those guys we talked about? The ones Shin wouldn’t even think of inviting for tea?”

I decoded that immediately, my insides turning to jelly. “Yes, Father, I remember. How does this go from here?”

“What? W-what the hell …” Loo sputtered, turning about slowly in the middle of the floor, looking confused.

“Hell is exactly what this is. If you want to live, do what I say. Walk to the front door very casually and turn the lock without seeming to be doing anything out of the ordinary. Those guys are after us, but they’ll kill you too in a heartbeat.”

Loo did just as directed with more calm and deliberation that I could have mustered. Meanwhile I crept along the floor until I reached the stairs, Mánús pushing hastily from the rear. I took the steps two at a time, not chancing the loss of a single instant. Even before I reached the second floor, I was calling out, “They’ve breached the village’s perimeter barrier Shin. Let’s get Ol’Ben ready to go.”

I shoved Ol’Ben’s arms into his winter jacket while he protested, "I’m no use to ya.” As I continued with his hat, scarf and gloves, he added, “Look, no one’s going to hurt an old man. Leave me here. I’ll only slow you down.”

“You’re coming,” Shin and I shouted together.

Michael and Loo reached the top of the stairs seconds later, pausing only to take a quick breath. “We toppled a few shelves in the front room to slow their progress,” my father informed us, “but it won’t give us much more than a few minutes at most.”

“How do they know I’m here,” I asked, surprised I was even keeping my sanity.

“I don’t think they do,” Father explained, “it’s the magic auras of Shin, Mánús and me that they’re sensing. You’re not magic yet, so they can’t pick you up on their radar. But they’re going to figure it out — and soon. Loo, you’ve got a car I’m guessing? You’re going to take Cait and Ol’Ben to Shin’s cottage on the fly, and wait for us there. Shin, Mánús and I will deal with this lowlife and join you there as soon as ... If anyone follows your car, do your best to lose them. Once you reach the cottage, get down to the basement, find the panic room, lock yourselves in, and wait for one of us to open it. Once you’re inside, switch on the barrier lock. You can’t miss it, it’s the only pulsing red button in the room. They won’t be able to penetrate it.”

Loo protested, “I’m not running away from a fight, while you wrestle these dudes with an old lady and a dog!”

“Look kid, there’s no time to argue. The old lady and the dog perform tricks you and I will never be able to do. Beside, I’m entrusting you with my family for goodness sake — my most treasured possession — don’t blow it! I refuse to lose another family member to that bastard Peadar!”

We could hear the front door rattling, first softly, then more loudly, then violently.

“Right!” he barked. “You guys leave by the fire escape, but don’t put a nose out the door until we have distracted the enemy. I’m guessing the first thunder blast from Shin should grab their attention. Wait for the boom, then scarper.”

We stood at the back door awaiting the signal — me first with Loo’s car keys in my hand, then Loo with Ol’Ben hoisted on piggyback style. At the sound of the deafening roar, I pushed the door open, checked that we weren’t being observed, then whizzed down the fire escape at warp speed by holding onto the rails, lifting my legs and letting my mittens slide me along. I raced to the car, opened the nearest back door for Ol’Ben, scooted around to the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. Loo was far quicker than I would have thought possible with Ol’Ben on his back. By the time the engine had turned over, he had already strapped and locked Ol’Ben into the back, and was making a beeline for the driver’s side, barking, “Scootch over, Cait. I’m faster.”

Loo raced that car along those country roads like he was going for a win at the Indy 500. He barely braked at the corners and treated all stop signs like mere suggestions, as we made that dash for our lives. Once at the cottage, we parked in the rear and tried to enter through the back door. When we found it locked, Loo took a single beat and coolly suggested. “Okay, Plan A — I pick the lock; Plan B — I find a rock.”

“Just quickly,” I growled.

“Plan B it is.” He grabbed a fist sized stone from a sleeping rockery and threw it at the single glass door pane, then reached around to twist the knob from within.

“Well, that was surprisingly easy, especially for a witch’s house,” he declared.

“Shin’s not a witch.”

“Then what is she?”

“Never mind that now. I’ll save that for your bedtime story. Let’s find that panic room and get Ol’Ben settled.”

It took a few minutes to find the room in the basement, partly because it was really dim down there, and partly because the door was camouflaged. Except for a few storage crates stacked in one corner, the basement was entirely bare. But I ran my hands along the unpainted concrete walls searching for anything unusual in their smooth surfaces, until I found a small round recess two centimetres wide and two deep in the middle of the back wall. When I placed my baby finger in the tiny hole and pushed hard, the entire wall slid to one side, revealing another short set of steps taking us half a floor down. At the bottom was a chamber of sorts — compact, low ceilinged, but comfortable. We bustled Ol’Ben in, sat him down in the only chair, and I gave him the once over to make sure he was still doing all the expected — like breathing in and out. Then in rapid succession, we found the switch for the overhead light — turned it on; spied a button inside similar to the one outside — pushed it, thus moving the wall back into place. An air circulation system began to hum as the door closed, which reassured me that the room was well ventilated and siege ready. I had almost forgotten the double lock feature, but was reminded of it, by its throbbing glow next to the door button. I knew I got it right after I read the label: ‘perimeter fence’. I pushed that one as well. Only then did I feel assured that we would be reasonably safe, although the irony did not escape me that as we were eluding our foe, we were also imprisoning ourselves.

I looked around the eight by eight foot space and found it well stocked with supplies. Against one wall, floor to ceiling, were shelves charged with groceries and sundry other items to sustain us for many days. In the way of foodstuff, there were bottles of water, boxes of crackers, jams and peanut butter, cans of meats, fruits and vegetables, and a fair variety of candy bars. But there were also blankets and pillows, sleeping bags, down filled parkas, boots in a few different sizes, a shovel and a pickaxe as well. No bathroom, so that was disturbing, but empty buckets for the purpose I guess. I grabbed a couple of bottles of water, opened one for Ol’Ben and drank one off myself in several gulps. Turns out running for your life is thirsty work. Loo lunged at the chocolate bars and scarfed a few down, while declaring “I could sure go for a coffee about now.”

“We got water,” I said, “that’s it.”

Ol’Ben wiggled around uncomfortably in the chair: “I’m feeling pretty useless, kind of like a heavy piece of luggage. I really think you young people should have left me there. I would have been okay on my own at the store.”

“I’m pretty certain there’s not much of a store left, Ol’Ben. That’s what you get for having me as a great-granddaughter, I guess.”

“Great-granddaughter? Since when?” Loo asked.

“Since always. I’ve only known about it for a couple of weeks.”

“What about you, Ol’Ben? How long have you known?”

“Since she was five weeks old.”

“Well,” Loo drawled, “Still waters, eh?”

I looked through the selection of boots, found some in Ol’Ben’s size and persuaded him to put them on. Next I found a pair for myself and added a down filled parka over my own inadequate jacket. Finally I pulled a blanket off the shelf and tucked it around Ol’Ben’s legs for extra warmth over his arthritic knees. I wasn’t taking any risks with this old heartthrob of mine. I knew we were all in for a bumpy ride whatever happened next, and I needed to make sure he was in good form. Then I tossed a pillow on the floor beside his chair, plunked myself down on it and rested my head in his lap. While he stroked my head, Loo paced.

I guess it was only half an hour that we were in that room, although it seemed so much longer. When we heard noises overhead, Loo cheered, “They’re here, praise be!” and began checking the shelves for cold weather gear for himself.

But the commotion seemed too violent for it to be our friends — sounds of furniture being tossed about, dishes smashed, doors opened and slammed, then deep guttural noises growing louder as they advanced towards our hiding spot. All too soon we could hear them enter the basement and start pounding the walls. I motioned a finger of silence to my lips.

The room started to ring from all the pounding outside and I knew our villains must be using something like hammers to open up the walls. While their vulgar threats grew louder, the locked door remained inviolate. After several minutes of this bombardment, Ol’Ben was beginning to look distressed, and Loo winced a few times. As for me, I don’t mind admitting I was terrified. I kept swallowing back screams in my throat, and held onto Ol’Ben tighter than ever.

Suddenly the remote and abusive tones turned to yelps of surprise and screams of pain as a thunderous clap rocked the basement, followed by a long, blood chilling howl from some kind of beast. There were sounds of bodies being chucked about and cries of protests suddenly strangled mid sentence. From what I was hearing, coupled with my recollection of Micheal’s recent account of a similar skirmish years before, I knew it was a transmuted Mánús at the throat of one more villain, an assault that thug could never survive.

Then silence.

The next sound we heard was the automatic click of the two buttons next to the door as it released and opened wide. Before us stood our rescuers, looking blood smeared and disheveled. The wall parted in time for us to witness Mánús in the final stages of transforming back from his fighting werewolf shape into the familiar dog that we knew. Shin looked a bit singed and smudgy about the fingers and hair, but otherwise robust. Father was bruised, his clothes stained with blood, apparently not his own. Mánús was calmly licking his chops to clear the pinkness from around his lips and nose. I raced forward to hug all three in turn.

“It’s not over,” My father announced breathlessly, “more are coming. Everyone back in the room.”

“You get on with it, I’ll be with you directly,” called Shin as she made her way back up the steps. “There’s a painting I must save.”

“Impossible,” Father shouted.

“Imperative,” she retorted, as she disappeared through the door.

“Foolish old woman,” he muttered as he stood by the door, jiggling up and down in frustration. She was back within a minute but it was thirty seconds too long, for just as she handed me the rolled canvas and prepared to step in, Father shouted “Watch out!” Shin turned to face yet another dark man bearing down upon her from the top of the lower steps, directly before our chamber. She shoved him inside the room ahead of her, shot a bolt of lightning from her fingertips, struck the madman dead centre, stepped into the room, and pushed both wall buttons at once. The last thing I saw as the wall slid into place, was that man on his knees, shuddering in his last moments of life, falling forward to land a hair’s breadth from the entrance.

Now that we were all crowded safely into the space behind the double locked doors, we took several deep breaths to calm down. Loo was the first to break the silence. “Okay … now what? What happens next?”

“Next we open the second door,” Shin explained calmly, pushing aside jars of peanut butter to expose yet another sneaky button. This time the door opened just like a standard one, only what was beyond was anything but mundane. We were no longer inside Shin’s cottage, but had entered an underground tunnel, like the entrance to a mine. More of the same food supplies were shelved against the uneven rock walls, to which were added more boxes of outdoor clothing, blankets, tents, camping gear, and piles of animal pelts in wooden crates, all stacked high beside the tins and bottles. Everything needed, in fact, either for a woodsman’s hunting trip or for a fortress under siege.

Most fascinating of all, parked at the end of a rail track, were two vehicles that looked like a combination of roller coaster cars and miner’s carts, only with a lot more flair. They were a sleek polished teal, with magenta style lines. The front car had a streamlined nose and a squared rear; the second car was blunted at both ends. They both were completely open with seating for six, coupled together with a hitch, outfitted with head and tail lights on each cart, a complex control panel on the dashboard of the first cart, and a black box welded to the rear of the second.

“What’s that?” Loo whistled, walking around the strange vehicles as he would a new model car in a dealer’s showroom. “This is some sweet ride. Where’s the engine?”

“Those are what’s known as tunnel pods — these two models are called Launcher I and Launcher II … and the engine is contained in that tiny black box. Microtechnology,” Shin explained, “There are magic assisted power boosters on each wheel for when we need a bit more juice.” I thought she was going to try to sell it to him, she had become so businesslike.

“Cool. What’s the mileage like?” Loo asked, and I swear he was looking for tires to kick.

“One ounce of liquid gold should fuel it for a couple of thousand kilometres, although I have never paid much attention … never had to.”

“Right … well …” Loo mused thoughtfully, “You know, if you’d have said that to me yesterday I’d have called you a nut job. But today, after that performance out there, I wouldn’t even think of messing with ya.”

“You have proved yourself to be someone not to “mess with” either Mr. Buckley,” said Shin, with a bow.

I swear I saw a bit of swagger in Loo’s step, as he sauntered back and forth scrutinizing the tunnel pods even closer. “So, now I’m guessing this Nethermost place is real too. And I think we’ve all just seen the inner Mánús right enough.” He gave a flourishing bow in Mánús’ direction, “… and this dog is not really a dog.”

Overhead, we could again feel the vibrations of a renewed home invasion, and even though we were secure behind the double barrier, Father urged us to load the supplies into the tunnel pods sharpish, buckle up, and prepare for takeoff.

Shin lifted up the seats to show us deep storage bins. We filled Launcher I with food, water, and extra bits of clothing, and Launcher II with sleeping bags, tents, lanterns, and cookware. Then we lined the seats with the animal skins, setting some aside to put over us. I belted Ol’Ben into the front seat of Launcher II, cocooning him all around with the skins and strapped myself into the seat directly behind him.

Now layered with extra clothing, Father, Shin and Loo selected their seats in Launcher I. Father took the first seat position in front of the control panel. Loo called shotgun and plunked himself behind my father to rubber neck over his shoulder while he operated that strange train. Instead of taking a seat of her own, Shin shoved in beside my father, buckling herself into the same seat belt. Then she unscrewed a small cap on the dashboard, and poured in the contents of a tiny gold bottle. The engine hummed as it revved, while I belted Mánús into the caboose.

Father listened for the motor to reach full throttle, then announced like a pilot pre flight: “Hang on tight … the first ten seconds are a real pip!” And he wasn’t kidding. As he released the handbrake, the Launchers propelled as a unit into the darkness at two hundred klicks at least, and our stomachs stayed behind at the starting gate.